Sunbeams Through Broken Glass
by Ellie Ivy
Summary: A series of one-shots... Sherlock and Molly's lives take a turn a year and a half after "The Fall". Their relationship changes completely; and it all started with broken glass. Rated K for now... Bad summary. Sorry...
1. Broken Glass

He pulled his eyes away from the irritating light of the microscope and straightened his back. A few pops sounded out from his spine and he grimaced. He had lost track of the time, wondering how long he had been bent over the microscope, staring at small images. Waiting for them to give him an answer.

He rubbed his eyes with his fists and let out a yawn before hearing the door open. He heard the light footsteps; identifying their owner within a second. "Molly…" he greeted tiredly. Not even turning his back.

The footsteps stopped for a moment, making him smile to himself because he knew that he had thrown her off. He hadn't even seen her today, couldn't even know what she wore and he still recognized her. It almost… Frustrated her.

She, however, pushed that aside and put on a poker face and continued her entrance. "Sherlock. Aren't you going home soon? Security will want to close down soon and if they catch you-" Sherlock turned himself in his lab stool to glance over his shoulder at her. Was he wearing a smirk? "What?"

"Nothing, Molly," he chuckled before turning back around and looking into his microscope once more. He wasn't even paying attention to what he was looking at. "How many times has security over looked my presence late into the night?"

"A good few…" she replied quickly.

"So, isn't this the same situation?" he sighed.

She rolled her eyes. "Sherlock. I understand but I am aware that you sort of… Reappeared in everybody's lives just four months ago and something like that isn't usually a situation where it makes a lot of people comfortable."

Sherlock didn't even think of his next response. "John was comfortable. Well… After he threw something at me. But he seems comfortable with the thought that I was back…"

Molly was standing next to him now, wearing an expression that he had never really seen on her- she was not amused. "Sherlock… John is your best friend who watched you 'jump' from a good few stories. Of course he was comfortable with you reappearing…"

"And so was Lestrade… You saw his face."

"Lestrade was glad that you were back because he felt like he had caused your death. Sherlock… You cleared his conscious with your presence."

It was a lost cause. Sherlock wasn't going to win. It was best that he stop trying to argue and begin to clean up. Then again… He had lived with Molly for the year that he was gone. Hidden in her flat for twelve months plus a few weeks. His presence around her no longer made her jumpy. No longer made her speechless. In fact, she had learned how to make him speechless in a few situations which still make her smile to herself.

Molly Hooper had learned how to accept Sherlock Holmes for who he was. What he did. How he included and who he excluded. As of late, she was not concerned with any of it because frankly, she was trying to survive without having him around. He was back at 221B Baker Street and she was once again alone.

Molly had to learn how to speak around Sherlock in the first month of him staying with her. She had to teach herself to converse with him without falter. To hold her ground when he would beg her to tell him how his friends were on the outside. How life moved on without him… She would sometimes have to lie.

Lying to him was hard for her, but she learned that it made them both stronger. The first few times he saw through her lies because she was an open book. The others, she became real. Made him believe her. Made Sherlock Holmes believe her lies. Her lies that John Watson was moving on when she knew that John wasn't emotionally stable. Her lies that Mrs. Hudson was cleaning out his flat so that she could rent it out to another when she knew that the woman hadn't touched a thing unless it was to make it shine. To make it appear like he was there to touch it… Her lies that Greg Lestrade was solving murders like no tomorrow and with ease. Little did Sherlock know that Lestrade had come to her a few times, telling her that he was unsure how he could keep going. "Without Holmes's insight, I am swallowed alive by puzzles."

"It's time for you to go home, Sherlock…" she said softly as she stared into his eyes. "I will wait for you if I must…"

Sherlock let out a sigh and nodded. "I suppose you're right," and he switched off his microscope, threw out his sample (he could acquire another tomorrow) and jotted down some notes.

Molly gave a slight grin when he looked away and began to place some of the things away. When he looked up, he froze. "Thank you…"

"You're welcome…" she replied. "Save some time because we both know that you are horrible at cleaning up…" He gave her a little smirk and returned to his notes.

She was half way done when he put down the pencil and let out a groan. He straightened once more, distracting her, and he rubbed his eye with his left knuckles. Exposing his palm to her.

"Sherlock?"

"Hm?" he grunted as he tucked his notes in his folder.

"What did you do to your palm?" she asked simply as she dried off a petri dish. He gave her a confused look before look at his palm.

"Other palm, Sherlock…"

He looked.

"It seems that I must have… Cut it on something. Taking into mind the angle the skin was cut, the amount of blood that had been there and the skin's appearance around the skin… I can deduce that it was not metal that I cut myself on. It would have left more a reddish ring. More profound. No… I must have cut myself of some broken glass…"

"Your meaning to tell me that you don't remember when or how you cut your hand?" she asked. He opened his mouth to speak but she shook her head. "No… Why would I ask that when you apparently weren't even aware of the cut?"

Sherlock only frowned and glanced at it. "I will be fine…"

"No… It is a pretty nasty gash. Not one that is in need of stitches but one that needs to be cleaned and covered."

"No necessary…"

"Sherlock Holmes…" she grumbled. "I am right. Now, if you don't mind, I am going to grab some medical supplies and I am going to dress your wound." He had no reply as she walked off to the other side of the lab. Leaving himself to his thoughts for the moments that she was not with him.

Well… He didn't have any thoughts at the moment. What was this? She just left him. Speechless. Again…

When she returned, she placed the supplies down and stood before him. He glanced up at her to see her smiling face (or was that more a smirk?) and an outstretched hand. Carefully, he placed the back of his hand in hers.

"What are you studying?" she asked him without looking at him. Blotting some disinfectant on the wound.

"A case. The victim was poisoned but the body of the criminal was found only two meters to the right. So, they asked me to look into what blood I could get and though I know what the poison was that killed the victim… I am perplexed by the possibilities for the criminal…" he explained.

She glanced up at him and caught his gaze for a second. Long enough to give him a sweet grin. "Exciting…"

"Perplexing…" he mumbled as he used his free hand to prop his head up on.

"The answer will come to you. I know you… You solved the case of my missing point shoe from high school."

Sherlock chuckled. Half because of the outcome and the other half because each time she mentioned herself as a ballerina in school, he couldn't help but imagine her moving gracefully across a stage. It was so… Molly. Light on her feet. Reserved… Disciplined. Graceful. Beauti-

His eyes flew open. What was that?

Molly looked up at him as she butterflied the cut closed in the corners so the cut wouldn't open. Placing some gauze on his palm before reaching for a cloth wrap.

"Sorry… I was… Drifting to sleep," he lied. She didn't say anything and wrapped his hand.

Sherlock was left to his thoughts with the absence of sound. Did he really just think that to himself? His mind registered something like that? Without him even realizing it? It was new… Something he wasn't sure he had done before.

"There you go…" she said softly as she pulled the small knot taut on top of his hand and patted it habitually. "That should do the trick. I am sure that John can have a look at it when you get back and if he needs to make any tweaks to it…" She trailed off when she realized that Sherlock was staring up at her. His blue-grey eyes staring into her dark chocolate ones.

"Are you alright?" she asked him. He remained still… The only movement came from his searching eyes. Taking in the image of her face. "Sherlock?"

"Molly?" he replied softly.

"Time to finish cleaning up and go home…" she told him as she turned so he could no longer stare into her eyes and was forced to look at her right temple.

Molly Hooper. She was small. She wore a comfortable skirt that came to her knees and a simple blouse. She had removed her black cardigan throughout the day and tied it with the sleeves around her neck loosely. Her long brunette hair was draped over her shoulder, falling in a gentle wavy curl. Her sweet nose littered with freckles that spread lightly on her cheeks.

Without thought, he found himself grabbing her wrist with his good hand and turning her around. She gasped slightly at the touch and glanced at him. "Sherlock?" she asked in confusion. "You alright?"

Sherlock felt a grin tug at his lips as he slowly stood up from his seat. He towered over her but neither one of them broke the gaze. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyebrow quirked in curiosity. "Molly…" he said. His hand around her wrist slowly fell and made its way to rest at the small of her back. His other hand that she had so gently wrapped slowly came to her face. His pointer finger curved under her chin and his thumb holding it. "Molly Hooper…"

Slowly, he leaned down. His lips meeting hers in a perfect motion. It made her almost gasp, but she was able to compose herself a lot quicker than she had expected.

Sherlock Holmes was kissing her… Passionately. Gently. Promising her something… Apologizing. Her soft hands rested on his chest as he dropped his hand to join the other as it wrapped around her waist. Pulling her close to him. As close as they could be. Their lips moving slowly as they took in the essence of the other…

She was sweet… He could taste some traces of chocolate. Smell her perfume. He could feel her relief. Her disbelief. Her longing…

He was lovely. He smelled clean and his lips were soft against hers. She could feel his excitement in the way he kissed her. She could feel his love for her just spill out. It was beautiful.

When they pulled apart, they sucked in the much needed air. They eyes looking at each other as if searching for some signs… Signs of regret? Absolute confusion? No. All they saw were signs of love and bliss as he held her to him.

He let out a chuckle and rested his forehead to hers. She smiled. "What is it?" she asked as she let out a giggle.

"It's just that… I've realized that one, I'm a complete idiot…"

"It's about time…" she told him.

He gave a pout but replaced it with his grin again. "Two, John is going to kill me when I come home and we can't tell the other good-night because we're too busy asking like love-sick fools…"

"He'll embrace it…"

"And three… Well. I believe that Lestrade's case has come to a close."

"What?" she pulled away slightly but allowed him to take her hand. He pulled her towards the coat rack at the door, leaving the table still a mess. He threw his scarf and coat on and they walked out hand in hand.

"Seems like our criminal wasn't aware that her victim was prepared to take revenge on her. Even after he died…" Sherlock grinned. "She should have realized that he would have some poison of his own when she kissed him."

"Are you suggesting that the victim and murderer were romantically involved and they both exchanged poisons when they kissed each other?"

He simply pecked her temple and grinned as they made their way out of St. Bartholomew's.


	2. My Puzzle of a Life

It was odd. It was just a plain puzzle piece sitting atop a little table in the corner of the St. Bart's lab that Sherlock had pretty much claimed to be his own. Molly Hooper studied the puzzle piece that was about the size of her palm. It was a corner piece judging by the way that is was straight on two sides and then cut in the needed shape to fit with the other pieces in the puzzle.

Curiouser and curiouser… Why would there be a puzzle piece? There was no sign of any other pieces to accompany it and she was pretty sure that it was sort of a rule to have all the other pieces put in place to say that the image was complete.

The door to the lab swung open and revealed Sherlock. He removed his coat and scarf as he talked. "'Morning, Molly…"

"Good morning Sherlock…" she replied.

"What are you looking at?" he asked as he placed his coat and scarf on the coat rack by the door and made his way to his lab table.

"Sherlock, darling… Did you leave this puzzle piece here last night?"

Sherlock nodded as he pulled out his notes and arranged the microscope. "Yes. Before I left. I have noticed how I truly enjoy putting together puzzles but I have no time in my day to sit down. So, I decided why not take it to work with me. Each day I add a few pieces."

Molly pulled her eyes away from the cardboard to look at him. "Isn't this puzzle a little… Easy?"

"Of course not… I am refusing to use the picture on the box and I have mixed in other pieces. So, I am determining the needed pieces by memory each day before I leave my flat. So, it it just as challenging as if I were assembling a jig-saw with the picture to refer to," he informed her.

Molly pushed herself away from the table and walked to her boyfriend (they had been going steady for a year and a half, she noted) and gave him a quick kiss on the head.

"I'll see you at lunch…"

—

The next day, Molly returned to the small table where Sherlock had begun his work on the puzzle. Three pieces… She noted that three pieces had been added on both sides of the original corner piece.

She had always known that it was a good strategy to start with the frame of the puzzle before you fill in the center. That was the logical way to do it. However, it was a lot easier to create the frame of a puzzle with the picture.

She smiled to herself. Sherlock, no matter how brilliant he was, was going to find that building a frame of a puzzle completely by the shape of the pieces that are hidden within other pieces that aren't even relevant to the image was going to take him some time. He had shown her one evening when she was over how he would have John flip over the pieces so the brown of the cardboard was facing him. The pieces all the same size… He had to choose by the shape. The shape in reverse when remembering that the piece was going to be attached right side up.

_Three weeks_… She told herself. Three weeks and she would see if he even got the frame.

—

Four days… It took him four days to complete the frame.

And as if he were aware of Molly's unspoken doubt… He even added in a center piece to the top left corner.

Oh that ridiculous man…

—

The body of the puzzle was one piece shy of completion within a week after he had completed the frame. A 56 piece puzzle was almost completed by memory without reference in… Just under 13 days was it?

Molly sighed to herself as she left the small table and joined Sherlock at his seat at the counter. He was jotting down some final notes from whatever was beneath the microscope.

"Almost ready to leave?" Molly asked him.

"Almost…" he replied without looking away from his experiment. "Oh, but I need you to do something for me…" He reached into his pocket as he wrote and pulled out a puzzle piece. Molly rolled her eyes as she took it from him grip. "Could you please put this piece into the puzzle for me?"

"Why?"

"Save you some time. You won't have to wait on me," he told her quickly. "Thank you dear…"

"Anytime…" she breathed as she turned on her heel (her long pony tail hitting his face in the process- totally on purpose) and made her way to the puzzle.

When she reached the puzzle, she looked down on the image. It truly was a beautiful picture. Healthy green grass painted on a canvas with ease. The blue sky contrasted with the dark mountains. A lovely scene.

She grinned at it. Sherlock still amazed her… He had created this by memory. And it was exquisite! She lowered the piece down to fit it into the single blank space. She quickly found that the piece was not going to fit…

"Sherlock. Your piece won't go in."

"Turn it…" he waved his hand dismissively.

"You really think I couldn't think of that on my own?" she huffed. "It won't fit…"

Sherlock looked over to her and removed himself from his things before crossing the room to her. When he joined her, he looked down at her with no words. She held up the puzzle piece dramatically which he took simply. Holding up the piece in front of his face, his eyes narrowed as he studied the shape.

"Forgive me…" he spoke as he placed the dud puzzle piece back into his trouser pockets. "Seems I must have handed you the wrong one. Let's see if this one does the trick…" He removed his hand from his pocket, his hand closed around the other piece. She watched his hand as he moved it to the open space; flattening it out and removing it.

What he revealed was not a completed puzzle… Instead, there was a beautiful, shimmering diamond mounted on a gold band.

Molly's hand flew to her mouth to stifle any sounds that might come out. Her free hand slowly reaching for the ring. She held it between her and Sherlock, completely speechless. Sherlock only smirked…

"Sherlock Holmes… Is this- Are you…" she stammered when she finally felt that she could get out a sound. Sherlock chuckled in response to how adorable she was when she was speechless.

He took the ring from her and got down on his knee. Molly knew that she was not going to keep her eyes dry now. Sherlock Holmes was getting down on one knee… Holding a beautiful diamond ring. He was holding her left hand as he looked up at her with his beautiful eyes.

"Molly Hooper…" he began softly. "You are the only piece that can complete my puzzle of a life. I have pieces of me that have been torn through the years. Pieces of me that can't be repaired in full. But you, however, waited for me. You learned how to fit perfectly in my life. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Her heart burst the moment he spoke the question. Was it humanly possible for one to feel so many emotions at once? Excitement. Joy. Relief. So many more.

She nodded as she wiped some tears from her eyes, watching him as he beamed up at her and slipped the ring onto her finger. She studied it as he got up… It was perfect. He was perfect… Maybe not in the eyes of many, but in her eyes. He was.

She looked into his eyes once more before pressing her lips to his tenderly. Lingering a bit and smiling into their lips embrace. When she pulled away, she glanced down once again as if making sure that she was awake.

His hand took hers and he led her to the door. "Come on… Let's go show Mrs. Hudson and John."

"Wait… They didn't know you were planning this?"

Sherlock froze and turned to face her. A smirk on his face. "Now, I know that they're our best friends. However, in this situation, they are going to be just as surprised as you are."

God, the man was brilliant...


	3. News

The door lock clicked open, startling Mrs. Hudson as she walked by. When the door swung open, she found a giggling Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper.

"Oh Sherlock, darling! Where have you been? I was worried that you might have gotten lost…" Mrs. Hudson greeted him as she gave him a quick pat on the chest. "Molly must have found you and helped you home…" Both Sherlock and Molly glanced at each other before breaking into another set of giggles.

"He was as lost as a puppy, Mrs. Hudson. You should have seen him. The moment I found him, he was so elated," Molly joked (though Mrs. Hudson was quite gullible).

Sherlock rolled his eyes and nudged her with his hip playfully. "Behave…" he scolded with a smile before turning to Mrs. Hudson. "I apologize if I worried you… I know that I am known to forget things but I assure you that I was only working a little later than usual at the hospital," he informed her when he was able to suppress his laughter.

Mrs. Hudson gave him an expression that said "If you insist…" before she began to head to her own flat. Before she could get to far, Sherlock called up to her.

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson?" She turned to look at him from the stairs, watching him help Molly out of her jacket. "I would like it very much if you were to help me with something in my flat. John is a complete dunce when it comes to making your brilliant tea…"

"Oi, sounds like the maniac has arrived…" came a voice from the hallway.

"John… I was just telling Mrs. Hudson how you are a disappointment with the art of tea-making," Sherlock informed him. John stuck out his tongue like a child before turning to Mrs. Hudson (too quickly for him to catch Sherlock repeating the same childish gesture with his own tongue).

"I was just about to come find you, Mrs. Hudson. Apparently, Sherlock got to you before I did," he told her. "You wouldn't mind, would you? I do have some things to give you."

Mrs. Hudson grinned. "Anything for my boys and dear Molly."

—

Mrs. Hudson brought in the tray of tea into the common room. John typed from his computer; he and Sherlock talking about random subjects here and there. Molly sat with Sherlock on his armchair, her legs stretched over his as she was situated in the small space that he left empty for her. She wasn't really paying attention to what was on the telly at the moment. She adored listening to Sherlock and John. They had such a pure friendship and she felt lucky that she could witness it.

Mrs. Hudson laid the tea on the coffee table in front of the sofa before distributing saucers.

They all thanked her and settled back where they were. Molly (as inconspicuously as possible) balanced the tea cup and saucer in her lap with her right hand. Her left hand moving to run through Sherlock's hair. Sherlock in response, smirked. He knew what she was up to…

The moment that something happened on the telly that was of some interest, Sherlock let out a chuckle, catching John's attention. John looked up from his computer, his table situated just a few feet from the chair… Just close enough to notice something new.

He narrowed his eyes for a second before they widened again. "Molly?"

"Hm?" she asked as she stopped her hand and let it rest across the back of the chair.

"Is that… New?" he asked.

"Yes."

"What is it?" Mrs. Hudson asked from her spot. She was unable to see the ring.

"A ring, Mrs. Hudson," John replied.

"What for?" she asked.

"A ring, John. On her left ring finger. A diamond mounted on a gold band. Deductions are quite helpful, however, these are quiet elementary, my dear Watson…" Sherlock said quickly. Mrs. Hudson's eyes grew wide but she remained silent. John turned in his chair.

"Hold on… So, you are saying-"

"Yes…"

"And you asked her?"

"Yes…"

"Tonight?"

"Yes."

John beamed from ear to ear. Mrs. Hudson was still unable to follow.

"I'm sorry. What is it?"

The room fell silent for some time. All eyes were on Sherlock at this point which made him quite nervous with all the attention. Molly wasn't going to say anything… He knew that he was expected to give the news. Finally, he let out a breath.

"Molly and I are getting married…"

John and Mrs. Hudson jumped up from their chairs in a flash, both pretty much throwing themselves at the couple in the chair. Sherlock pushed the awning to allow Mrs. Hudson to shower him and Molly in kisses while John chuckled in disbelief from his table.

When Mrs. Hudson stepped back and excused herself to dry her eyes, the room became quiet. Sherlock moved himself and Molly so he could see his friend behind him. John sat, completely content; shaking his head in disbelief.

"You did well, buddy…" he told him. Sherlock gave him a grin before looking at Molly. When he saw her dazed look, his smile fell.

"What?"

"They never knew… Not even the slightest?"

Sherlock looked at John. "I'm as surprised as you were, Molly." Sherlock looked back at her.

"Is there something wrong with that?"

"No! Of course not… Dear God, no. Sherlock. You're brilliant!" she cried before capturing his lips with her own. "The great Sherlock Holmes… Proposed to me… Ordinary Molly Hooper."

Sherlock gave her a sweet grin before moving a strand of hair from her face; tucking it behind her ear. "You're not ordinary, Molly. You are extraordinary. Amazing…"

John grinned at the new engaged couple before stirring. "I'll leave you two for a little bit. Mary needed some phone numbers…" he told them as he began to leave. Before he was gone, he turned to them once more. "Oh, and Sherlock… Hands to yourself while I'm gone."

John turned on his heel and left a pouting Sherlock on his chair with his giggling fiancee.

_Two in one day? The universe is going to implode... Nah. I just wanted to get a little chapter up in response to my last chapter. I am hoping that you guys are enjoying!_

_-Ellie_


	4. Silly Little Games

Greg Lestrade attempted to keep up with Sherlock's wide strides as they navigated through the halls of St. Barts.

"Sherlock! Slow down!" he protested.

"Don't complain, Detective Inspector… It doesn't suit you," Sherlock said as he continued with his pace. (Perhaps even widened his strides just to annoy his companion).

Greg sighed before jogging some feet to get to the man's side. "Dear God!" he exclaimed. "How the bloody hell does John keep up with you!"

Sherlock came to a abrupt stop to open the door to the morgue. He smirked at Greg as he gestured for him to go in. _No witty remark? Interesting… _Greg noted_. _

They both entered the room to find Molly pulling out a fresh body for them to look over. Sherlock walked over to her and kissed her on the head as she unzipped the bag for Greg.

"Afternoon, darling…" he said softly as he rubbed her upper arm and walked to the head of the corpse. He pulled out his phone and began to type. A few seconds later, her phone vibrated and she grabbed it to look at the screen.

_Let's keep our good friend in the dark about our relationship status… Call it an exercise to improve his observations. -SH_

Molly immediately replied back.

_Sounds like fun… xxM_

Sherlock gave her a quick wink as he returned his mobile back into his pocket. "So, the victim… Molly, any observations that you think would be of interest?" Sherlock said as he looked down at the body. Lestrade gave them a quick glance before returning back to his own observations as he listened.

Molly glanced through her clipboard to see if she had any notes that she had jotted down before hand that she might have forgotten. "His name is Mr. Jason Filch. He was 52 when he was discovered outside of a pub. There were no gun shot wounds that were accounted for. However, as you can see…" she moved herself in between the slab and her fiancé. Sherlock instinctively placed his hands on her shoulders as she pointed out the wounds that were found on the body. "He has two prominent head wounds, which he could have received as he hit the ground."

"Good… Anything else of importance?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes. I noticed that there was somewhat of a pin-prick wound on his sternum… However, somebody must have had a very sturdy needle because it seems that it went straight through the bone…"

Greg ran a hand over his face. These cases were the ones that really annoyed him. They were easy for Sherlock but he was left in the dark most of the time. However, Sherlock was remaining quick silent at the moment. Almost like… He was thinking.

No. He wasn't thinking. If he were thinking, he would have spit out an answer within seconds and he hadn't barked out any orders or improbable explanations yet. Lestrade watched Molly's movements.

"So, there is a possibility that the victim could have been poisoned. Is that what your saying Molly?" Lestrade asked as he looked up from the body to see Sherlock nuzzling his face into Molly's hair with his arms around her waist. She absentmindedly placed her hands over his that were placed just at her stomach. He rolled his eyes.

"Geez Molly! You've made the man into a sap!"

Sherlock pulled one hand away to pull out his phone once more. He typed with his thumb to the side, glancing over to Greg in the corner of his eye.

_Perhaps he will take this as a hint… SH_

Molly's phone alerted her of a new message. She removed her hands to respond to him as she pulled away from him and went to the foot of the victim. She pressed send and smirked at Sherlock the other end.

_Sherlock, I'm the only woman you've ever had in your life that you have acted like this with. It's strange to him that you're being all lovey-dovey but couples do this all the time. We're really not being obvious enough for him to deduce that we're engaged… xxM_

Sherlock gave her a quick glance over before replying.

_Don't be silly Molly… Of course. There are fourteen details that are staring him in the face that could tell him that we are to be wed. SH_

Molly rolled her eyes in response. And she started to reply but Sherlock beat her to it with another text.

_And you're wearing that beautifully stunning ring… SH_

Molly looked up at Sherlock and to find that he was smiling. Molly couldn't help but giggle as she put her phone back into her lab coat.

Greg gave them one more look as he finished a note he was taking. "You two… Dear God."

Sherlock's smile disappeared in seconds and was replaced by his usual stoic expression. "Get everything you needed, Lestrade?"

"Did you?"

"Of course…"

Greg nodded in response before he pulled out his phone. Molly began to zip the body back up as Sherlock texted John. "Talk to you two later…" Greg said as he began to walk out of the morgue.

"Bye Greg…" Molly told him. Sherlock gave a wave as he remained focused on his phone.

Both of their mobiles sounded in tandem.

_Mind if I join into your little game?_

They both looked up at each other in complete surprise. Greg was standing just outside of the room with a smirk before he looked back down at his phone.

_Congrats by the way… You guys are perfect for each other. _

With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of sight down the hallway. Surely Sherlock didn't think that he was going to keep him in the dark about this. It was too easy… But he had to admit, Sherlock did pretty damn well with the ring.

**A/N: I am so sorry I have been dead on here... It is very rude of me. I know that you guys really wanted an update. I have another chapter that I have typed up. Thank you those who wanted some chapters on more reactions from Molly and Sherlock's friends. :) It was fun. **


	5. Big Brother, Baby Brother

Sherlock remained curled up on the chair in front of the telly. It was just one of those mornings. One of those mornings that he just didn't care about what he did. Watching the television was one of them… He despised it. Loathed it. Today didn't really matter. He sat curled up with his knees to his chest and his arms crossed. He wasn't even changed out of his pajamas.

John's clacking from his fingers on the keys of his laptop added to the noise of the television. Sherlock had to admit… It was quite comforting to him.

Then there was a ring from his phone. John picked it up from the table, looked at the screen and then tossed it to him. Sherlock caught it and looked at the caller ID.

Mycroft.

Sherlock let out a grumble before pressing the silent button and laying the phone on the arm rest of the chair. John glanced away from his computer and gave a small grumble before resuming his affairs on his blog.

There was no disturbance throughout the room for a good two minutes until John's phones began to vibrate. John sighed and answered. If Sherlock wasn't going to answer, he was because he knew that Mycroft would harass them if he didn't. A small part of him also wanted to spite Sherlock.

"Hello?" John answered as he sat back in his desk chair.

"John… Are you two busy?" Mycroft came from the other line. He seemed a little… Uneasy? No. He seemed almost like he'd seen a ghost.

John glanced at Sherlock on the chair who seemed to be quite content.

"Tell Mycroft I'm not in the mood…" Sherlock mumbled from his seat without even sparing a glance to John. John stood up from his chair and grinned to himself.

"Actually Mycroft… I was writing for my blog. Did you call Sherlock first?" John knew the answer. He just liked to play around…

Mycroft's huff made John smile even more. "I did. That is why I called you because he never answered. I know when my brother is busy he will not touch his phone for some time unless it is to request something from me. That is why I presumed that he was busy…" John quirked an eyebrow in response. He was surprised that Mycroft wasn't aware of Sherlock's whereabouts at the moment. Usually he knew if his brother was up to something or doing nothing.

That didn't matter though. If Mycroft wanted to stalk his baby brother, he had every right… Well, every means to do so. John still wasn't satisfied. Sherlock wasn't completely angry at him yet. It wasn't fun…

"Oh… Would you consider an episode of Downton Abbey as being busy? Your brother seems very entranced by his glowing box with pictures. Got a celebrity crush on Michelle Dockery perhaps?" Sherlock let out a few grumbles about how ridiculous that was. "Here you go…"

John bent over the back of the chair and held the mobile for the detective. Sherlock craned his neck to look at him and furrowed his brow. "What's that?"

"It's a mobile, Sherlock…"

"The appropriate question, Sherlock, is 'who's that?'…" Mycroft's voice came.

Sherlock snatched the mobile out of John's hand and put it to his ear angrily. "Excuse you, Mycroft… I know exactly what I was asking. Now leave me alone."

John gave a quick eye roll before sitting back down at his desk chair. Sherlock remained where he was.

"I don't mean to tease you Sherlock… I have no intention of making you angry at me and I don't want to make myself angry at you. Now, I have called you because I have something very important to talk with you about."

"Not interested…"

"So Downton Abbey has taken precedence over Molly?" Mycroft hissed.

Sherlock became silent. "What about Molly? Of course Molly is number one…"

Mycroft took the time to finally get in what he wanted to say before Sherlock could rant. "When were you going to tell me that you proposed? Did you think that it was appropriate for me to find out when you sent out the save-the-dates?" Sherlock sensed a little bit of hurt.

"What do you mean you didn't know that I proposed? I proposed four months ago…"

"I'm not all knowing, brother dear…" Mycroft hissed.

"Don't be silly! Don't you stalk me?!" Sherlock countered.

"I don't stalk you, Sherlock. I just make sure that you keep yourself safe…"

Sherlock became silent once more. He looked behind him a John who looked at his computer. He could only guess that he didn't want to get in the middle of it at the moment. Sherlock was on his own…

He shut his eyes and thought about how to go about this. "I'm sorry…" Sherlock finally said.

"Sorry?"

"Sorry that I… assumed. I assumed that you would get this information some how. Maybe I thought that you would have talked with John and Mary. Perhaps you would have found out through your surveillance. I don't know… Maybe you would have talked to Molly." Sherlock really felt… guilt? Was he feeling guilt? Guilt that he didn't even tell his own brother that he was getting married. He felt bad that he didn't even think that maybe telling Mycroft may be the only way that he would find out before he received the save-the-date. Instead, he assumed and now he hurt his brother.

"Apology accepted." Mycroft was silent for some time as if this situation was just as foreign to him as it seemed to Sherlock. "Well, congratulations, Sherlock. And tell Molly that for me?"

"I will relay the message if you don't see her…" Sherlock assured him. "I will talk to you later then?"

"Yes," Mycroft chuckled. "Oh, and Sherlock?"

"Yes Mycroft?"

"I'm proud of you…"

Sherlock couldn't help but grin to himself. His brother was proud of him… He felt John lean over and give him a pat on the shoulder.

"Thank you, Mycroft. That… that means a lot to me," he found himself saying.

Sherlock could tell Mycroft was grinning as well. The situation was so new to them both. But it felt good… "Please make sure that Mummy and Dad know? I hope that you didn't keep them in the dark like me… You know Mummy would have a-"

Sherlock chuckled before taking the phone from his ear. He spoke into the microphone: "Chat with you later, Mycroft…". He hung up.

John cleared his throat. "Pleasant conversation…"

"You listen well…" Sherlock noted. "And yes it was."

"You do assume most things, though."

"I am aware John…" Sherlock mumbled. "But I don't care anymore."

"What? Why?"

"It doesn't matter," Sherlock put his eyes back on the television just in time to see the program flash back on the screen. "That's the first time he's ever told me he was proud of me…" John gave another grin to the back of his friend's head. He jotted a note to make sure and blog about Sherlock and Mycroft's conversation… As he jotted, all he could hear was Sherlock whispering to himself: "My big brother is proud of me…"


End file.
